take_my_land (take_my_land) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-09-29 18:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | !partner thread, malcolm reynolds, sarah manning |
Who: Malcolm Reynolds and Sarah Manning
Where: Mal's Bar: Serenity.
When: 9/29/2015
What: Random encounters
Warnings/Rating: Likely low, save for language as Mal isn't the most cultured.
Status: Ongoing | Closed
Mal had been convinced by the growing number of females that kept coming into the bar; a place not all that famous for having a whole bunch of women about, to get a band to play one night. The usuals, the bikers that frequented the place, said they were fine with it especially if it brought, as they put it, 'more fresh meat in'. Mal couldn't say he really agreed with the whole assessment, but he was one to aim to please and decided it could only help business.
So tonight, there was a local band playing that played something of a Country-Rock type of mixture, with its own special twists. They essentially covered bands with their own unique style, and frankly Mal was fine with it because you could at least understand the lyrics and they weren't obnoxious. The bar itself was a tad bit brighter than it had been in the past, with a couple of the lights fixed, though the broken neon signs continued to hang broken, and the ones that worked flickered here or there.
While it was brighter, the place was still dim with a lack of windows, and the lights only marginally used. People came here to forget troubles, and sit in their own thoughts, so a bright social setting wasn't what he usually went for in any way, shape, or form.
The current moment had Mal standing behind the bar, wiping down the counter as a couple of his usual patrons came up in their gruff voices and behind thick beards, asking for four drinks. Two of them Vodka Cranberries... which up until a week ago, Mal would never have thought of serving here. He eyed them, then the two women, presumably 10 years younger than them, at the table they'd been at. Rolling his eyes, he filled it to the best of his knowledge, he was hardly a trained bartender after all. What he did best was fill a whiskey glass with whiskey, and called it good, so he was certain there was far less alcohol than the girls were expecting, but he had no intention of being an accomplice in poor decision making.
Sending them on their way, Mal was beginning to wish for the old days when he made barely any real money.